It's not the end of the world
by Julie Verne
Summary: When a tentacle monster attacks, it feels like the end of the world. It isn't.


It was probably the end of the world. Again. If there was a plural of apocalypse, Myka was going to have to learn it. Apocolai? Apocalypse's?

Things looked pretty bleak for Myka. Her Tesla was out of charge, her gun was useless against… this, and Pete was nowhere to be seen. In the meanwhile… oh god, why did it always have to be tentacles…

The moment after Myka had braced herself, right after 'holy crap, I'm going to die', she was… flying? Again? The body pressed against hers was very familiar, as was the jerk when they landed on a rooftop, many stories above a raging monster.

"We really do have to stop meeting this way, Agent Berring," an all too familiar voice said, low and close to her ear, close enough to move a mass of curls in the wake of that British charm as Myka heard the click of a grappling gun retracting.

"But then we'll be breaking a long-standing tradition," Myka said, noting that HG still hadn't removed her arms where they were wrapped around her. She bought her own arms up to mirror HG, to complete the embrace. "And I put a lot of stake in tradition."

A hand that had been wrapped tightly around her ribs loosened and rested between Myka's shoulder blades. "I know," said HG quietly. "Forever destined, and all that."

"Solving puzzles." Myka murmured.

"Saving the day." HG concurred.

And it was that, that moment, when she realised that HG still thought about that time that time they came so close to dying, right after she finally found her, restored her mind, restored her faith in herself; after HG saved her life by doing something she had never before been able to do; after Myka literally tied herself to Helena; after everything had so very nearly blown up, and in the middle of that chaos a quiet moment, a reiteration of how good a team they made… it made her cling to HG. She didn't realise she was crying until a soft, rather bony hand wiped across one cheek, then came back to pass a thumb under one eye, moisture shining on the nail. HG pulled back a little then, and Myka could finally see her, could finally believe she was there. It just made her pull HG back closer, remembering the times she could see her and not touch her.

HG sighed a little, shifting curls again. "Are you not happy to see me, darling? Your face says one thing, and your embrace quite another."

"It's the tentacles," Myka mumbled into Helena's neck, trying to pass off her reaction as merely fear. "You know how I am when tentacles are involved." Myka could feel a hum, then HG's head nodding next to hers.

"Speaking of which, should I dispatch the creature? Or should I let you do the honours? It could be therapeutic, to face your fears."

"Hang the damned thing, you're not going anywhere." Myka said, pulling the slender author's body closer to her own.

"It could get up to some mischief, left unleashed on the world like this," HG lightly insisted, pulling back a little. "I'll be right back."

"You always go," Myka said quietly, to herself. The only sign the other woman had heard her was a pause in her step, then she was aiming a gun off the edge of the roof, squirting some sort of purple goo containment field around the thing, like a web.

"That should hold it." HG said with satisfaction. "At least until your partner arrives. Where is he, by the way."

"I don't care," Myka said, pulling the author back to her. And Myka, who was usually selfless, who usually tried to hide her feelings behind a professional veneer, found herself unable to pull away when polite society would dictate that it was necessary. She couldn't do it. Who knew when she'd see HG again; it had taken two years this time, two years Myka spent occasionally googling HG and her known aliases, for her to show up in the middle of an assignment, swooping out of nowhere to save her. If she'd known it was going to take two years for this hug to happen, she would have held on a little longer last time, despite an impatient but sympathetic Pete drumming on the wheel in the car behind her, despite the man and child awkwardly standing behind the French window. She would have lingered, because that hug wasn't long enough to get Myka through two years. But then again, no hug could ever be long enough.

When Myka finally pulled away HG looked amused, if a little concerned.

"I missed you," Myka said.

"I could tell," HG said, raising her eyebrows at the way Myka's thumbs were rubbing against her wrists. She turned her hands so her palms rested against Myka's. She didn't elaborate, didn't say she missed Myka because she couldn't talk about it on a rooftop in South Dakota. She just wanted to get through the interaction without Myka bringing her to tears, or crying again herself.

"How did you know where I was?" Myka asked.

"I've been tracking you." HG said. "I thought you'd know."

"I didn't. I didn't think you…"

"Cared? Of course I do, darling. I've never not."

"I didn't think you wanted to be involved with this. Or me," Myka finished, and HG's face twisted and Myka could tell she was holding something back. She wouldn't push. For now. "And that's how you knew I needed a rescue?"

"It transmits when your heartbeat raises. I try to have your back, these days."

"By being a masked vigilante in the shadows? You couldn't have come forward and said 'oh, hi, former partner.'?"

"I didn't know how I would be received. Now, however, I can't believe I waited so long."

"You always were a bit slow," Myka replied, finally shooting a smile at HG. HG's face lit up. "What happened to your caveman and his daughter?" Myka asked a little too casually. "And your job in the boondocks?"

"Alas, it didn't work out." HG's jaw tightened. "We were living in entirely different centuries."

"Do I have to hide the tridents?" Myka asked lightly, trying to bring a little levity back to HG. HG laughed a little.

"No, the world is quite safe from me for the time being. I could not destroy a world that homes one of the most amazing people to have existed."

Myka was about to follow up on that, and the way HG was gazing at her, when her Farnsworth buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket and made sure HG was out of frame before she opened it.

"Mykes, did you do this?" And there on the screen was a gooey tentacle monster, raging against its purple (albeit black-and-white) prison.

"Uh… kinda," Myka replied. "Can you get the gloves off it by yourself?"

"Where are you? I can hear an echo." Pete said, and Myka edged away from the edge of the roof.

"She's been unavoidably detained," HG said over her shoulder. "Nice to see you, Lattimer."

"Still not crazy? Have her home by 9 or Artie'll be pissed." Pete said, and flipped the Farnworth closed with one hand, the way he always did. Myka got the feeling he missed flip phones.

"Seems I have you to myself. Shall we have that coffee now?" HG said, still hovering just over Myka's shoulder, so when she turned their faces were very close. Myka met HG's eyes for what felt like an eternity but must have only been seconds before nodding and stepping back, breaking eye contact.

That gaze was too intense to live under for more than a moment.

* * *

HG rode a motorbike. Of course she did. The spare helmet flattened Myka's curls but being able to cling tightly to a partially leather-clad HG was definitely worth it. She stopped outside a small cottage-style house. When Myka looked bemused, HG explained.

"We have too much to say, too many strange things to say, to do it in a coffee shop. Besides, I can't stand the stuff. I have tea here; proper tea. You're welcome to coffee."

Myka followed HG into the little house, strewn here and there with copper pipes and gears and books laid open on every flat surface. HG stopped behind a counter.

"Coffee?"

"Yes please." Myka said, eyes darting over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in wonder. Some of the books were older than their owner. The amount of books belied the fact the Helena had been back in town for a while. It stung Myka a little, that HG had never bothered to tell her she was back.

"Why the secrecy?" Myka asked finally, hands wrapped around a warm mug. She was sitting on a sofa but HG was elusively leaning against the counter. At least she was on the right side now, Myka thought, and snorted a little to herself at the double meaning. From moment to moment, she never really knew which side HG was on, even after she redeemed herself. She was capable of such violence, and such self-sacrifice. All Myka knew was that HG Wells would always remain on her side, would never put her life in jeopardy again. They never spoke about it directly, but Myka knew enough about the author to decipher some of her more cryptic sentences.

"I felt I had failed," HG started slowly. "I made an attempt at a normal life, but I found myself constantly searching for anomalies and curiosities. I missed the Warehouse, every time I smelt an apple. I missed my former colleagues, but I was uncertain as to how my return would be received."

"Pete and Artie have forgiven you, and hell, even Claudia took Artie hostage one time. I'm not even sure if she ever thought there was anything to forgive. You proved yourself over and over. You're not the same sad, twisted, bitter woman who was ready to strike out at the world for taking her daughter too soon. You've grown."

"You've spoken of the rest of the team, but have you forgiven me, darling?" HG asked a little coyly, watching her mug as she turned it in her hands.

"The only thing I can't forgive you for is leaving." Myka said flatly. HG's eyes darted to meet Myka's, then back to her tea.

"Surely you could understand that the Warehouse was causing me great pain." She said, as nonchalantly as she could.

"It's the only home you have in this time," Myka said cautiously. "I thought you'd find comfort in the familiarity of it."

"There's only one place that feels like home to me, in this time." HG said, still staring at her tea.

"England?"Myka asked.

"You." HG said, and refused to look up from her tea to see Myka's reaction. Myka stood and put her coffee on the counter behind HG, then took HG's tea and placed it alongside her coffee. She rested an arm either side of HG, leaning on the counter behind the smaller woman as she leaned forward.

"Don't turn away from your truth, Helena," Myka said quietly, then bought her mouth to HG's. She couldn't believe how long she'd been waiting for this, and now that it was finally happening, HG making pleased moans into Myka's mouth, she wondered why she waited so long. They could have saved so much time.

Time. It was all about time with HG. But for once, just once, Myka's timing was right. Finally she was able to run her hands across her back, across her ribs, up her chest to cup her face, without second guessing herself. When she had to pause to breathe, she pulled back and HG was looking at her the way God looked at Adam and she had never felt as naked as she did under that gaze. It felt like meeting her eyes when she closed the magic-eight-ball; a look that went straight through her like HG was memorising every inch of her because she believed she might never see her again.

"You are my truth," HG said quietly. Myka just pulled HG closer.

"Well, we got coffee, and at least we didn't have to wait for the end of the world again."

"We've faced enough apocalypses in our time," HG agreed.

"Is that the plural? Apocalypses? That's really been bugging me." Myka said. HG nodded and pressed her lips to Myka's cheek.

"It's not the end of the world," HG said, smirking a little when Myka kissed her again. "It's just the start."


End file.
